


Afterschool

by tinee



Category: Feverwake - Victoria Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bethany deserves more attention, Dara has TikTok, Dara is a student teacher, Dara is in college, FUCK Lehrer, Lehrer is still trash, M/M, NOT underage or anything like that. ew, Noam is in high school, Rated teen for language and alcohol use, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinee/pseuds/tinee
Summary: Noam was planning on finishing his senior year smoothly. He already had all the required credits, and he'd been accepted by three different colleges. He wasn't going to cause drama.But god, that student teacher from Duke University was pretty.
Relationships: Bethany Glennis/Carter Ames, Noam Álvaro/Dara Shirazi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so for those of you who don't know: student teaching is when a college student goes to a nearby elementary/middle/high school class for their education training. its one semester long, usually done in your senior year. dara's doing it in his junior year because hes just That Cool  
> this is set in 2020, but none of our,,,, world events are going on in it. i dont feel like dealing with a virus in real life AND in writing  
> noam is 18, turning 19 in july of 2020. he's older than his classmates because he was held back in eighth grade after his mother's death.  
> dara is 20, turning 21 in october of 2020. he's younger than his classmates because he skipped a grade in middle school lmao. parallels? more like perpendiculars

“Who’s that kid?”

Bethany shrugged, and Noam went back to studying the boy leaning against the wall beside the whiteboard. He had softly tousled curls and a regal, symmetrical face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a romance novel. His deep purple button-up was way too nice for a high school physics class, in Noam’s opinion, the sleeves rolled up to expose smooth brown skin. He looked like he could be a senior, or maybe a junior with an early birthday.

“Do you think he’s in our class? Or just someone’s friend maybe?” 

Bethany looked at him amusedly out of the corner of her eye. “Why? Are you in love with him or something?”

“What? No. What? He’s just…” Noam waved his hand in the air. “Interesting. I guess.”

“Right. Whatever you say. Well, tell me when you’re done gawking at the poor boy. I need help with the homework before class starts.”

“Wait, you didn’t finish it?”

“No, I couldn’t find the answers to some of the problems. I was gonna ask Taye for help, but he got to school late and we didn’t have time.”

“I didn’t finish it either.”

“Seriously?”

“You know I’m total shit at physics!”

“Well, yeah, but you always fini-”

“Didn’t do your homework?” Noam looked up. The boy was leaning over Noam’s desk, one hand braced against it. One of his perfect eyebrows was raised, matching the small smirk on his lips. Noam tried not to stare.

“Yeah,” Bethany answered, saving Noam from the embarrassment of trying to speak to such a pretty boy. She knew his weakness. “Some of the questions weren’t in the notes from yesterday, and the answers weren’t online.”

“Here, let me see,” the boy said, leaning even farther over Noam’s desk to pull the sheet of paper on Bethany’s desk closer to him. Noam watched the way his curls fell in his eyes, just messy enough that he had that #wokeuplikethis aesthetic that Instagram models post about after spending an hour getting ready and then crawling back into bed for pictures.

“Oh, conversions? This is easy.”

The boy explained the steps so easily that Noam felt like an idiot for not figuring out the answers by himself. He sounded so sure of himself solving the problems, like there was no way he could be wrong. By the time the bell rang, all of the problems that Bethany and Noam hadn’t completed were done.

“Thank you,” Bethany said, smiling, then kicked Noam under the table. He looked up from staring at the boy’s handwriting, small and neat in the margins of his scrap paper where he had explained some of the work.

“Thanks,” Noam said quickly. He could just tell that his face was bright red, and he tried not to think about how the boy probably saw it too. The boy just smiled and turned back to the front of the room. Noam watched him go.

“Definitely a senior, or at least took this class last semester,” Bethany said. Frowning, Noam looked back to the front of the room. The boy looked insignificant next to their teacher, Mr. Lehrer, but he still managed to draw all of Noam’s attention to him.

“Shouldn’t he be in his own class right now, though?” 

Bethany shrugged.

“Good morning, everyone. I trust you all did the homework?” Mr. Lehrer said, moving to stand in front of the classroom. Noam flushed again when the boy, still leaning against Lehrer’s desk, looked at him, and he was pretty sure he actually turned into a tomato when he _winked_. A girl across the room raised her hand.

“I couldn’t figure out the answers to seventeen through twenty-five,” she said. There were general murmurs of assent around the room. Noam looked at his paper—those were the ones both he and Bethany had struggled with. Lehrer crossed the room and held up the girl’s paper, tapping his chin.

“Ah, yes. Those are from the notes that we didn’t get to yesterday. Did anyone figure them out?”

Noam glanced at Bethany, who shrugged and raised her hand. Then he looked at the boy. He was smiling and gave Noam a short nod that Noam interpreted to mean “Sure, you can take credit for the work that I basically did for you”. Noam half-raised his hand.

“Mr. Álvaro, Ms. Glennis. Nice work,” Lehrer said after examining their answers. “Five extra credit points on the next test for each of you.”

Noam flushed under the attention. “Thank you, sir.” 

Lehrer placed a hand on his shoulder for a brief second before letting it fall away.

“Now, as I’m sure many of you have noticed, there’s a new presence in our classroom today,” Lehrer said. All eyes turned to the boy at the front of the room, who didn’t seem at all bothered by the attention. “This is Dara Shirazi, or Mr. Shirazi to you. He’s participating in the student teacher program at Duke University.” 

Lehrer stepped back and waved the boy—Mr. Shirazi—forward. 

“Hello, everyone! Like Mr. Lehrer said, I’m student teaching from Duke. I got into the program early, so I’m a junior instead of a senior like most participants. I actually graduated from this high school three years ago, so it’s nice to be back.” He had that forced positivity that teachers had on the first day of school, and Noam wasn’t sure how much he liked that personality versus the naturally laidback boy he had been when he was helping Noam and Bethany with the problems. 

“I’m going to be here every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday for most of this semester, just helping out around the classroom. I was top of my class graduating, so if anyone needs any help with anything, you can always ask me.”

He turned back to Lehrer and quietly asked him something. Lehrer responded with a nod, and Shirazi opened the backpack that was sitting on the ground against the wall, digging something out of it.

“Okay, so I have a quick survey for everyone to fill out, just for me to get to know you better.” There were groans around the room, and Shirazi laughed politely. “I know, I hate these things too, but it’s an easy way to introduce me to the class. Or would you rather stand up and say your name, favorite color, and one interesting fact about you?” he said critically, smirking at the way everyone frantically shook their heads.

He passed around the surveys, not even sparing Noam a second glance as he put the half-sheet of paper on his desk. 

**Full name:** _Noam Isaac Mendel Álvaro_

“So…” Bethany said, leaning over as they filled the surveys out.

 **Age:** _18_

“Shut up,” Noam whispered, flushing.

 **Grade:** _Senior_

“A college boy, huh?” Noam elbowed her. She laughed.

 **What are you most excited about for this semester?** _Graduating._

“This thing is dumb,” Noam said, erasing the smiley face that Bethany had just drawn on his paper. She drew another one. “I don’t see how any of this contributes to the class. It’s not like he’s gonna know our entire personality and all our strengths and weaknesses from six questions.”

 **What’s the last book you read?** _The Master and Margarita - Bulgakov_

“I mean, he is cute. For a boy, at least,” Bethany said, ignoring the obvious subject change. 

**Is there anything else you want me to know?** _Nope._

“Shut up,” Noam said again. He stood up and held his hand out expectantly, waiting for Bethany to finish the last question and hand her paper to him. Then she snatched his out of his hand, looking over his answers. She pointed to the last one.

“You should’ve put ‘I’m gay’ here,” she said. Noam snatched the paper back.

“Bi. And no, why the hell would he care?” His face was red again. That was becoming an all too common occurrence today.

Bethany shrugged, picking at her nails. Noam rolled his eyes and walked to the large desk at the back of the room where Shirazi had set up. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it when he’d walked in. 

Shirazi looked up as Noam put their papers on top of the growing stack, and Noam felt like he couldn’t move when their eyes met. Then Shirazi looked back down at his computer like it was nothing, and Noam could breathe again. He stayed there for just a second longer than he strictly needed to before walking back to his seat. 

“I _don’t_ like him,” Noam said the second he sat down. Bethany looked at him, amusement in her eyes.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, shrugging. 

“You were going to.” 

She smiled. “Yeah, probably.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asked innocently, even though he had just said it moments before. He shoved her lightly.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to finish the rest of the homework,” Lehrer said from the front of the room, cutting off any defensive response Noam could’ve made. “We’ll be going over all of the material you need for it today in class.” 

The rest of class went by without incident, Shirazi observing from the back of the room the entire time except once to help with an example problem. They were given the last five minutes of class to work on the last eight problems of the homework from the night before.

“We should go talk to him,” Bethany said, twisting in her seat to look toward the back of the room. Noam grabbed her arm and pulled her back around to face him.

“Stop staring,” he snapped under his breath. She smiled.

“Why? I thought you didn’t like him.” Damn her and her stupid logic.

“I— I don’t! It’s just rude to stare,” he said, a poor excuse for his gay behavior.

“Okay, Noam,” Bethany said patronizingly, like she was talking to a stubborn child. “But I really do mean it. We should go talk to him.”

“Why would we do that?” His face was red. Again.

“I dunno. I feel like I recognize him from somewhere.”

“He did go here for high school. He would’ve been a— shit, wait.” Noam did the math in his head. “He was a senior when we were freshmen.”

“Do you recognize him?”

“I didn’t go here for my freshman year,” Noam reminded her. He’d moved here in the middle of his sophomore year, after his father’s death. Now he was staying with his father’s old friend, Tom Brennan.

“Hm. I still don’t think that’s it,” she said, turning back to stare at the student teacher again. Noam sighed and buried his face in his hands, trying to save himself from the absolute embarrassment that he’d feel if Shirazi saw one of them staring.

“Stop staring,” he said again, muffled by his hands.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to tell her a third time, because the bell rang and Noam and Bethany were on their way to their next classes. Noam stared at Shirazi as he walked out, nearly running into the door frame, but he was too deep into conversation with Lehrer to notice. 

“I’ve got it!” Bethany said at lunch, pulling her phone out of her back pocket with a flourish. Her fingers flashed across the screen, which was tilted so that Noam couldn’t see what she was doing.

“Huh?” Noam asked dumbly, wiping spaghetti sauce from the corner of his mouth. Bethany held up a finger in front of his face for a quick second, not looking up from her phone. He genuinely considered biting it.

“One sec.”

“One. It’s been a seco—”

“Shut up.”

Noam grinned and tried to look over her shoulder, but she turned so she was facing him.

“Oh my god, I was right,” Bethany said, finally turning the phone toward him. “Here, look.”

Noam wiped his hands on his pants and took the phone from her, turning up the brightness. Why does she insist on keeping it as low as possible? It was stupid. 

“Wait, is that—”

“Yep. Look at the username.”

Jesus fuck. Dara Shirazi had a fucking TikTok account? Noam felt mildly disgusted, but also… He clicked on one of the posts.

It was so stupid, but Noam couldn’t stop watching them. Personally, he couldn’t stand TikTok trends, but Shirazi just looked so _pretty._ It wasn’t his body and the languid way it moved that kept him watching, but the expressions his face made. It was captivating. 

“Alright, stop being creepy,” Bethany said, plucking the phone from his hands. Noam squawked indignantly and snatched it back, exiting out of the posts and going back to Shirazi’s main page. Bethany watched with an amused smile.

“Holy shit, three hundred thousand followers?” 

“Told you I recognized him from somewhere.”

Noam took a second look at his bio. No useful information, just his Snapchat and Instagram. On second thought… 

Taking out his own phone, it didn’t take long to find Shirazi’s Insta. He had about a sixth of the followers he has on TikTok, but it was still a huge number. Jesus fuck, how popular was this guy?

“Okay, wait, let me see your phone,” Bethany said. Noam handed it over with a pointedly suspicious look, not trusting what she was about to do. Bethany just smiled at him and started tapping on his phone. Noam tried to follow what she was doing from the way her fingers moved, even though the screen was tilted away from him. Home button, opened another app, clicked something, typing… he was already lost.

“Here,” she said. Noam looked at his screen—she had closed whatever apps she had been using. 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

He stared at her for another minute with narrowed eyes, and she met the stare with a level smile. Eventually, he sighed and turned back to his shitty school lunch. Bethany laughed triumphantly.

Noam didn’t have time to figure out what she’d done before lunch was over, and then he had to put away his phone for third block. Normally, he’d say ‘fuck the rules’ and do whatever he wanted, but he sat in the front row and didn’t want to deal with getting his phone confiscated. 

Finally, at the end of third block, their teacher let them have five minutes of free time if they were done with their classwork. The first thing Noam did was pull out his phone, switching it off of airplane mode. He waited for the notifications to roll in like they always did after it was on airplane mode for more than twenty minutes. Eight new notifications from Twitter. One from Snapchat—Bethany, sending streaks. Three from Instagram—he hadn’t posted in a while.

He deleted the first two notifications, just likes on a post from half a month ago. His breath caught in his throat at the last one. Jesus, Bethany, what did you do?

_✨Dara✨ (@darashirazi) has requested to follow you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if teacher!dara and teacher!lehrer seem out of character, its because,,,,, well have you ever met your teachers outside of school context? completely different.  
> also i just cant bring myself to write lehrer as disgusting as he is in the books. like i physically cannot make myself write it. making characters mean is not my forte


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany drags Noam to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!  
> just some notes about this chapter:  
> -the text conversation is a direct follow-up to chapter 1, then it time skips 3 weeks when the actual,,, like,,, writing starts  
> -ames and dara are not friends. they kind of know of each other but they're two grades apart in this fic and aren't close friends(for writing purposes because that would make it more complicated adskksdfs)  
> -following that, dara and gordon ames never happened. ames' dad died the year before this takes place of natural causes because i fucking hate him  
> -that random boy named ethan is just a random character for the purposes of this fic. my friends know who he is, if you want to learn more about him DM me on insta @theelectricheir or @tineewrites (((((((((((: (he's from an original story i'm working on oop)

**Me: bethany what the fuck did you do (2:17pm)**

**Bethany: ??? (2:32pm)**

**Me: why did mr shirazi just request to follow me on ig (2:32pm)**

**Bethany: HE DID?? (2:34pm)**

**Me: what. did. you. do. (2:35pm)**

**Bethany: I literally just followed him on Insta from your acc, I swear (2:36pm)**

**Me: jesus fuck (2:36pm)**

**Me: so then why the h e l l did he follow me (2:39pm)**

**Bethany: Idk, Noam. Maybe he thinks you’re cute(; (2:40pm)**

**Me: shut up (2:57pm)**

**Me: how did he even find my acc, he has 60k followers, how did he even notice that i followed him (2:59pm)**

**Bethany: Your username is literally just your name, it wouldn’t be that hard to find if he was looking for it (3:00pm)**

**Me: why would he be looking for it (3:01pm)**

**Bethany: … (3:01pm)**

**Bethany: Also check your Snap (3:02pm)**

**Me: bethany (3:04pm)**

**Bethany: Did he add you back? (3:06pm)**

**Me: b e t h a n y (3:07pm)**

**Bethany: I’ll take that as a yes (3:07pm)**

**Bethany: You’re still coming over today to do homework, right? (3:07pm)**

**Me: ugh (3:09pm)**

**Me: yeah (3:10pm)**

“Are you coming to the party on Saturday?”

Noam frowned, looking up at Bethany. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, and Noam was sitting on the floor with papers surrounding him. “What party?”

“Oh, did I not tell you?” Bethany shrugged. “Ames invited me, you, and Taye to some party her friend is having.”

Ames was Bethany’s girlfriend. She was a freshman at Duke University, but they had been dating since she was a junior at Bethany and Noam’s high school. It seemed like she was inviting them to a party every other day.

“I dunno, I’m probably gonna stay back this time,” Noam said, gathering up the papers—their notes and homework from physics. Eugh. 

“C’mon,” Bethany said, giving him those obnoxious puppy eyes that got her whatever she wanted. 

“I think you can survive without me for one night, B.”

“It’ll help you get your mind off of a certain college boy,” she said in a sing-songy voice. Noam rolled his eyes.

Okay, yeah, he couldn’t stop thinking about Dara Shirazi, but Bethany hardly needed to know that, did she? He’d hardly given Noam a second glance since his first day student teaching, and it had been three weeks. There was no hope there. Besides, he was a junior in college. He had to be at least 21. That’s three years older than Noam. No way.

“...Fine,” Noam said, pointedly not looking at Bethany. Even so, he could tell how much she was smiling.

“Yay! We’re meeting here at eight and then Ames is gonna drive us there. There’s a small—very small—possibility that we may be staying at Ames’ house after. Is that good with you?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Noam said. He tossed the papers up onto Bethany’s bed and stood up, grabbing his keys off of her desk. Ames had inherited her father’s house when he died last year, and it was practically a mansion. There were more than enough guest rooms to go around.

Bethany rolled off the bed to give him a hug goodbye.

“Bye, B,” he said, playfully shoving her off of him. She smiled and shooed him out the door. 

Noam forgot how much he disliked parties. He especially didn’t like the ones that Ames invited them to—a mess of straight white college boys drinking cheap liquor, yelling about football, and harassing girls. 

Bethany didn’t like them either, but at least she had Ames. Noam always felt like an awkward third wheel when he went with them. Even Taye’s presence didn’t help—he usually broke off on his own after they arrived.

So when Bethany and Ames abandoned him to talk with one of Ames’ friends, and Taye was already playing beer pong or something like that with a group of college kids, Noam wasn’t really surprised that he was on his own.

It didn’t take long to find the kitchen—he just had to follow the flow of drunken students looking for another drink.

“You here all alone?”

Noam glanced toward the boy sitting on the counter and had to do a double take. Holy shit. Was that _Mr. Shirazi?_

But, no—they had the same messy, dark curls, and their skin was almost the same shade, but that was where the similarities stopped. This boy had more Asian features, slanted eyes and a flatter nose. He looked like he was probably 18 or 19.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, kinda,” Noam said, looking away. He shook the thought of Shirazi from his mind. He was here to forget about him, not spend every second thinking about him. The boy hopped off the counter. He was a little shorter than Shirazi.

“Kinda?” 

“I’m here with my friends,” he said awkwardly. “No date, though.”

The boy laughed. “You make it sound like it’s fucking prom or something. ‘Date.’” 

He laughed again—intoxicated, probably. Then he pressed a cup into Noam’s hand.

“Here. It’s punch.” 

Noam accepted it but didn’t drink from it. Who knew where that cup had been? It had a reddish liquid in it. The color reminded Noam of blood. He set it on the counter beside him.

“So…” the boy drawled, looking him up and down. “You got a girlfriend?”

Noam shook his head.

“A boyfriend?”

 _I wish._ He tried not to think about dark curls and nice button ups and smooth brown skin.

“No,” Noam said, picking the cup back up so he had something to do with his hands.

“Huh. Can’t see why, with a handsome face like yours.” His eyes had finally stopped mentally undressing Noam, settling on his face. 

“Oh, uh—” Noam flushed. “Thanks.”

The boy was leaning closer, and Noam was letting him.

“Ethan!”

The boy stopped, looking over his shoulder. He glanced back at Noam, shrugging, and his eyes flicked up and down his body one last time. “See ya later.”

He probably wouldn’t.

Noam watched him weave back through the crowd of people towards a blond-haired boy. Then he looked down at the drink in his hand, the red liquid rippling, and took a sip. It _was_ punch, but there was something alcoholic in it. It burned his throat on the way down.

The second sip didn’t burn as bad.

Noam wandered back into the masses with the red solo cup in his hand, wondering where Ames and Bethany had wandered off to. Probably in some guest bedroom with the door locked, he thought wryly.

Somebody bumped into him as he took a sip of the punch, and it splashed into his face. He sputtered for a second, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Excuse m—” He stopped. The person was facing away from him, and all Noam could see was a head of dark curls. Probably the boy from earlier—Ethan, or something like that. “Oh, it’s you.”

The boy turned towards him, his body still moving to the music that Noam couldn’t figure out the source of. Suddenly, Noam found himself breathless. “Hm?”

Holy fuck. Dara Shirazi.

Shirazi’s eyes drifted up from Noam’s sneakers to his face slowly, and Noam felt like there were pins and needles all over his skin. 

“Oh. Hi,” Shirazi said with a giggle. A fucking giggle!

Shirazi had a small grin on his face, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. There was something sparkly dusted across the sharp cut of his cheekbones, and Noam was pretty sure he was wearing at least mascara. In his hand was a red cup identical to Noam’s, but unlike Noam’s, it was completely empty. _Oh._ He was _drunk._

A million thoughts flashed through Noam’s mind at once. Would Shirazi get him in trouble for being underage and drinking at a party? A college party, no less. How drunk, exactly, was Shirazi? And Jesus fuck, why did he have to be so pretty? It was making it very hard for Noam to think clearly, especially combined with the trace amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. And, holy shit, why was he leaning closer?

“What’s your name?” Shirazi mumbled, and Noam froze.

He didn’t recognize him?

Noam couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

“Uh—”

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter,” Shirazi said, his words slurred. He was still moving closer, and a hand came up to rest on the back of Noam’s neck. The contact made Noam’s skin feel like it was buzzing with electricity, live wires snaking under his skin.

“You know, you look just like somebody I know,” he mumbled. His other hand came to rest on Noam’s chest. Noam hoped Shirazi couldn’t feel the way his heart was pounding against his ribcage right now. “Just like him.”

Noam allowed himself a brief moment to think about what would happen if he let Shirazi kiss him right now. What his lips would feel like, soft and velvet against Noam’s. How their bodies would fit together perfectly, swaying to the music.

He pushed Shirazi away.

“You’re drunk, Mr. Shirazi,” Noam said, holding him at arms’ distance. 

“‘Mr. Shirazi’?” He laughed. “What are you, a—”

Shirazi froze, his eyes opening with sober clarity for a split second. “Oh, _no_. You’re—”

Then he laughed again, his head dropping to look at the floor. That sober moment was gone.

He was back in Noam’s arms a second later, and Noam had to fight to keep Shirazi off of him. 

“Jesus,” Noam muttered under his breath, dragging Shirazi through the crowds. Shirazi let him, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. 

He looked for Bethany and Ames, but there were too many blonde ponytails and dark buzz cuts for him to pinpoint them. Besides, he didn’t even know if they were still on the same floor. For all he knew, they could be making out in the bathroom upstairs. 

He pulled out his phone and shot Bethany a text, supporting Shirazi’s drunken weight with his other arm.

**Me: SOS, front porch (10:02pm)**

Noam made his way back through the throng of people and pushed open the front door. Shirazi stumbled out into the cool air after him, the door slamming shut beside them. Noam watched him lurch over to the railing of the front porch.

“Mr. Shirazi—” 

Shirazi looked at him over his shoulder with an unsteady grin. “Call me Dara.”

Then, he turned back and promptly threw up over the railing.

“Holy shit, _Dara,_ how much did you drink?” Noam muttered to himself, unheard over the sound of retching.

The door opened behind him, and Noam whirled around.

“Oh. Hi, Bethany,” Noam said, fidgeting with his hands. He noticed that Ames wasn’t behind her, but her lipstick was definitely messed up.

“What’s the emergency?” 

Noam just gestured behind him, toward Shirazi—toward _Dara_. 

“Wait, is that—”

Noam nodded grimly.

“Drunk as hell,” he said in a low voice, grimacing at the noises coming from behind him. “I dunno if he’s here with anyone.”

Bethany looked alarmed. “Okay, uh, Ames is finding Taye right now. I guess we could bring him with us to her house?”

“What?” Noam said sharply.

“I mean, what else are we supposed to do?” 

Noam didn’t say anything.

Ames came out a minute later with Taye in tow just as Dara finished retching.

“Holy shit, who threw up?” she asked the second she opened the door. Bethany and Noam both pointed at Dara, who was still leaning over the railing in case anything else decided to come up.

“And who the fuck is that?” Ames followed up. Noam flushed, glancing at Bethany. Bethany shrugged.

“Uh, our student teacher from physics,” he said, almost whispering.

“Shit, really? Shirazi?” Ames looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or be disturbed.

“Yeah. He’s, uh, really drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock. You don’t say? Are we taking him back with us? We probably have room in the car.”

“Wait, you’d let him stay at your place?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.” 

“Maybe we should ask him himself?” Taye cut in. He gestured to Dara, who was leaning back against the railing and staring at them with unfocused eyes.

“Hi, Mr. Shirazi,” Bethany said, smiling at Dara. Noam didn’t know how she could stand to be so nice and calm even in the weirdest situations. He also noticed how Dara didn’t correct her on his name. “Are you here with anyone? Or do you have any friends we can call?”

Dara laughed and then scoffed. “Friends? Yeah, right.”

Still drunk.

“Okay, so that’s a no,” Bethany said, turning back toward them. “So are we bringing him or what?”

As if to answer, Dara stumbled back to Noam and draped his arms over his shoulders. Noam pushed his face away, grimacing—he reeked of alcohol and vomit. 

“Oh, wow,” Bethany said, staring at them.

“I know,” Noam said. “This is weird.”

“Where are we going?” Dara asked him as Noam led him out to Ames’ car. He was leaning on Noam as if he’d fall over if he didn’t. Then again, he probably would.

Noam responded with a grunt as he slid into the middle of the back seat in Ames’ car, pulling Dara in after him. 

Dara fell asleep on the ride to Ames’ house, leaning on Noam’s shoulder. Noam couldn’t tell whether he should be elated at the contact, or uncomfortable with the way he was squished between Dara and Taye. The awkward feeling that settled in his chest was a little bit of both.

Taye helped him drag Dara inside and up the stairs to a guest room once they pulled up to Ames’ house, and then he left them alone. Noam couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

On one hand, he was alone with Dara Shirazi. On the other hand, he was alone with Dara Shirazi. 

Noam dumped him unceremoniously on the queen-sized bed and sat in the armchair across the room, staring at him. Dara was still sleeping, covered in party-induced sweat and probably a fair share of alcohol. He smelled, at least, like he had been doused in a bottle of vodka—he had probably consumed more than that.

Jesus fuck, what was even happening?

Hadn’t he come to this party to forget Dara? And now where was he? Sitting in a chair watching a drunk Dara Shirazi sleep in a guest room at his best friend’s girlfriend’s house. What an interesting turn of events. 

As if he had heard Noam thinking about him, Dara groaned and sat up. Noam didn’t make any noise, but Dara’s eyes found him all the same.

“Hi. You’re still here,” he said with a silly grin.

“Hi. You’re still drunk,” Noam said, trying not to smile back at him. It was so strange to see his student teacher who always seemed so professional acting so… well, unprofessional.

“Am I?” He frowned, then looked Noam over. “Come here.”

How forward of him. 

Noam stood and crossed over to him, perching on the edge of the bed facing Dara. Dara reached over and trailed his hand down Noam’s arm, and Noam tried to ignore the warmth that ignited under his skin everywhere his fingers touched.

“You’re really pretty,” Dara murmured after some time spent in silence. “And smart, too. Did I ever tell you that? You’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Noam whispered, fighting back the heat in his face. He was drunk. This meant nothing.

Then Dara slipped his fingers into his and brought Noam’s hand to his lips. Noam was avoiding his gaze, but he could tell that Dara’s eyes were on him.

Noam gently pulled his hand back after Dara had pressed three kisses to the back of his hand and was starting on his wrist.

“You’re drunk,” he said again.

“Stay here.”

It was pitiful.

“Okay.”

Noam didn’t move from his place on the side of the bed until Dara was fast asleep, and only then did he go back to the armchair on the other side of the room. He tried to focus on anything else in the room, but his gaze just kept coming back to the outline of Dara's body under the sheets that Noam had pulled over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dara, drunk: asdjkdfsjkl you looook like this cute boyy in my class. fu c k me  
> noam: wtf no you're drunk  
> we love a responsible boy


End file.
